


The Jump

by MundaneChampagne



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Based on a True Story, Copious amounts of dust, Gen, Humor, Remodelling, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundaneChampagne/pseuds/MundaneChampagne
Summary: Aziraphale hadn't quite grasped how much dust was occupying his shop.He decides to do something about it, but gets more than he bargained for.





	The Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Good Omens fandom nice to be here. <3
> 
> This is 100% based on a true story, told to me by the owner of the ice cream parlor downtown. You can't make this stuff up. I've never laughed so hard over a cup of ice cream before.

Aziraphale hadn't quite grasped how much _dust_ was occupying his shop.

But there were new tenants moving into the office space above him, and the landlord was doing some renovation. The man had cheerfully promised not to interrupt his business hours*, so he'd scheduled the contractors to work at night.

*Aziraphale had not detected anything remotely close to irony in his landlord's tone.

All in all, it was extremely frustrating. He'd be sitting with a book, or cataloguing his inventory, but the constant banging and whirring of tools above him would draw him right out of his reverie. The noise was bad enough. But worse, the vibrations from the whole operation was bringing down all the dust that had accumulated on his ceiling.

Almost a century's worth of dust, come to think of it.

Aziraphale was having trouble keeping up with the mess. He finally took to draping sheets over all his bookshelves and tables before they started every night, and taking them down in the morning. He'd shake the sheets out, cough, and his hair would be almost white with dust before it was miracled away.

Every night when the noise and the dust would start up again, he'd grit his teeth, and slip on a pair of noise-cancelling earphones. Either that, or go out to a nice pub and linger til the early hours of the morning.

After months of torment, the contractors finally finished up, and the new tenants moved in. Aziraphale wasn't quite sure what kind of office it was, but they all seemed young, bright, and very eager to make themselves the best neighbors possible.

A vague idea formed itself in Aziraphale's mind. Possibly inspired by a very unfortunate brush with corporate team-building exercises several years back.

"I need," he said, "a favor. A bit of a team-building thing, if you will." And then he proceeded to explain about the dust.

"I'd rather put this whole thing to bed all at once. So if you could just, at some point, get together and all jump at the same time, just to knock the last of it down, see—"

They laughed, agreed to the proposition, and shuffled back upstairs.

That was two weeks ago.

Since then, things had slowly died back to normal. The office people had evidently decided on a final layout for their furniture, because everything was quiet from upstairs. Aziraphale returned to his disapproving business hours, and mentally dared his landlord to say anything.

Today the bookstore was peaceful, as usual. Aziraphale was puttering around, doing some reorganizing, and there was a massive THUD and the building shook.

Aziraphale hit the floor.

After a few moments, he looked up, uncurling his arms from about his head. A ceiling light swayed gently.

And everything was covered in a thick layer of white dust.

The phone rang. Aziraphale, his heart still hammering, stood and picked it up. "H—hello?"

"Did you like our jump?" The voice on the other end was cheerful.

"Ah—yes! Yes." Aziraphale let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "It was a very fine jump, well done indeed. I think you got the last of the dust. Thank you very much."

He paused. "Although—I would prefer some warning next time."

Of course, when he told Crowley this story later, the demon laughed until tears rolled down his face.


End file.
